


The Fall of the House of Dipper

by TheInfamousGabby



Category: Gravity Falls, The Fall of the House of Usher - Edgar Allan Poe
Genre: Human Bill Cipher, M/M, bill and dip are long-lost pals, dip is awkward af, nonmagical AU, this departs a little (a lot) from the original, this will have sad parts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:37:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5576979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInfamousGabby/pseuds/TheInfamousGabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bill ventures into the home of his long-lost friend, Dipper Pines, he will discover that the infamous House of Dipper and its residents are not quite what they seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Arrival Upon the Doorstep of an Old Companion

     The day I arrived at the house was one of great gloom; the grasses grew grey from the ground underfoot, and above my head roiled a mass of clouds whose thick miasma was rivaled by none I had experienced in years prior. I had ridden in on horseback on that dreary, oppressive day, trotting across the countryside that grew less welcome with each hooved step. I felt the beast's reluctance to trod forward into the thick veil of haze, yet I refused to allow trepidation to turn me away from my path. I remember feeling my breath catch as the building rose up from the murk, not because it was spectacular, but rather because from the instant my eyes caught sight of the melancholy structure, despondency crept into my skull, numbing my senses. It was lined by a solemn row of decaying trees, their white trunks marred by growths of mold sprouting from within and creeping along the walls of the structure. Its windows, vacant eyes upon the bleak walls, held a darkness that could be compared to none other I had encountered.

     Tearing my eyes from the mansion of gloom, I glanced down upon the pelt of my steed, focusing on the asymmetrical patterns stretching over the arc of his neck rather than the hideous terrain. The solid plodding of the beast's hooves against the parched ground, pulverizing the wizened sod, lulled me into a trance, and I sat, enraptured, until I was nearly thrown from the back of my horse. 

     There it stood, rising from the dismal ground like a mountain piercing through the billowing masses of clouds shrouding its peak. Clutching tightly at the reins, I inhaled deeply, the taste of putrid mold turning my stomach as my steed reared away from the towering structure. I was thrown from his back as he fled in a panic, bolting away from the house and its dismal surroundings.  My arms empty of luggage, I strode forward with a hesitant step, my feet tracing paths around the stagnant pools of putrid tarn that surrounded the house like an inky moat. I felt as though it would be considered an intrusion to enter the household of an old friend with not a single possession to call my own, aside from what little was hanging from my person, but, having no choice, I ascended the stairs, approaching the brass knocker on the towering door. Steeling myself with a deep intake of breath, I raised my hand to grasp the intricately designed knocker, tapping against the door with a resounding reverberation. I stood silently before the vast entryway, stood in the mouth my mind perceived, as I waited. 

     I started as a creak erupted from the bulky hinges connecting the door to the crumbling bricks of the structure, and the house, once sealed from the open air, bared it's wide maw, revealing a figure in it's midst.

     "Mr. Cipher," he mused, brushing indiscernible dust from the front of his vest. I extended by hand to the man, but he ignored it, pulling me into a quick embrace. "It has been far too long!" He declared, a smiling curling across his face, but his eyes, twin pools of amber amidst a sea of alabaster, were solemn and unfeeling. "Dipper Pines," I acknowledged with a nod of my head," It is a pleasure to see you again."

     The man and I had been childhood friends for a great deal of time before I disappeared into my studies and he was absorbed by his books. We were together so little that I hardly noticed the day he never returned to the school we had attended together. Rumors of violent deaths and scandalous affairs spread like a voracious conflagration for many weeks before he, like many other trends, was forgotten. Had it not been for the letter I had received a mere fortnight prior, I quite possibly would never have seen the eccentric man again, save for the times he strayed into my mind at night, a fading phantom of memory. 

     But now he stood before me, dwarfed by my frame, head pivoting to meet my eyes, smile gracing his features. "Shall we go in?" He inquired, compensating for the silence that threatened to overcome us. Nodding silently, I followed him as he turned away, strolling nervously into the mysterious House of Dipper.


	2. The Treacherous Art of Conversation

     The silence that threatened to lapse the small man and I was broken only by the resounding thuds of the heels of our shoes striking the floor below in a hauntingly empty melody. I glanced upon the man with casual admiration. I had always been rather fond of him as a boy; his studious nature conflicted with the anxiety that plagued him in a manner I found most curious. Fond recollections of his excited rants of superstition and the supernatural flitted through the recesses of my mind. The faintest hint of a smile dared to tug at my lips but was soon devoured by the feeling of desolation permeating the imposing stone walls.

     I nearly stumbled over the brunet as he stopped suddenly and turned to face me with widened eyes. "This," he spoke at last, his voice containing a tinge of both fear and diluted animation," is my study. If you do not mind, I would rather like to discuss the events of these past few years with you, Mr. Cipher."

     "Bill," I corrected warmly, wishing to hear him refer to me as a familiar rather than a stranger he was introducing himself to. "And I would rather enjoy hearing what has occurred in the time that we were apart." Nodding his head, he raised a worryingly thin hand to the knob, opening it to allow my entry.

     The floor was laden with a faded burgundy material, and in the far corner of the room lay an unlit furnace, providing no warmth to the large room. One wall was comprised completely of windows, which were lined with curtain devoured by mildew. A pale beam of light fought through the gloom of the house to shed its weak light within the study, revealing a mahogany desk with two ill-matched chairs standing at its front.

     Stepping around my tall frame daintily, he sat in one of the chairs, nervously removing a pair of bifocals he had not worn as a boy from the bridge of his nose and brushing the delicate lenses against the rough material of his vest. "Please sit, " he requested politely, gesturing to the seat beside him, a gaping maw, waiting patiently for me to succumb to the will of my tired limbs. I lowered my frame into the seat, my eyes meeting the earthen irises of the man before me. They held stories I would likely never hear, stories of times the man had tried to suppress within the labyrinthine structure of the human mind. "You know why I have summoned you to my home, I presume?" He spoke with a politeness reserved for acquaintances and those of importance one wished to impress with displays of etiquette. Exhaling the breathing from my pounding heart, I thought back to that note I had received, merely a few weeks prior.

" _Mr. Bill Cipher,_

_I apologize deeply for the suddenness of this letter, but I require your immediate presence. I fear that I have acquired an illness, one of mind rather than of body. I would much enjoy your company, as my dearest friend, in this time of discontent. I believe you may help to aleviate the burden of this disease's symptoms. My address is written below if you wish to pay a visit._

_Your friend,_

_Dipper Pines"_

     With trepidation battling anticipation, I had departed almost immediately to pay a visit to the enigma of a man, hoping within my heart of hearts to be the man to learn the truth behind his unprecedented disappearance. Yet, here I sat, in his presence, within his very home, and I was just as oblivious to his story as all of the others who had pondered about his story, all those years in the past. "What is this illness you have told me is plaguing you?" I inquired, in hopes of releasing the tension that stretched between us like a piece of wire pulled at from either side until it was taut and unyielding.

     His entire appearance shifted to betray his discomfort. " I have been suffering from such dreadful visions," he confided, eyes cast downward in a show of his deceptively bashful nature. " Such terrible thoughts have invaded my mind, thoughts I am reluctant to reveal, even to one in which I have fully dedicated to trust such as yourself. My sleep is invaded by terrors that caused me to bolt upright and fill my body with such fear that I cannot find it within myself to lie back down."

     He paused, his teeth worrying upon his lower lip, and his eyes crept up to meet my own. " I am so alone in this empty home. Please, I beg of you, stay for a while, if only to satisfy your own curiosity." 

     "Alone?" I asked, hesitant. For, I had recollections of a sister. Although I never once met the girl, my companion had mentioned her from time to time during our hushed conversations as boys.

     "I must not have mentioned it in my letter," he mused, pushing his spectacles up higher on his pale face, capturing the dark rings beneath his eyes in their oval frames. "My sister, Mabel, has fallen ill. For many days, she has not moved from her bed, leaving me to care for her alone in the depths of this house." 

     "I will stay," I declared firmly, locking my eyes onto his. "You shan't live in solitude any longer, my friend. I will do my very best to provide you with companionship and help you to care for your poor twin."

     He regarded me with most imperceptible smile I had ever encountered on the countenance of another being. 

"Thank you, Mr— Bill." 

     He spoke in a tone of hushed admiration. "I swear to you that you will not regret your decision." I acknowledged this with a thoughtful nod. How ever would I regret such a decision? In my eyes, the situation presented only positive results.  So, with a bit of flair I was quite infamous for, I extended my hand to him, and he grasped it with his own, shaking it firmly to seal our deal.


	3. The Night Creeps in on Arachnodactyl Limbs

   As most of my bags had been stolen away in the haste of my horse's sudden retreat, I was left with few possessions to carry toward the room my old companion was guiding me to. As we strode along the hallway, walls adorned with faded portraits of people whose names were long forgotten, I let my eyes travel around the dismal home, which almost seemed more like a prison than a sanctuary.

      "Dipper?" I spoke hesitantly,  for he seemed every bit as skittish as he had been in his youth," I do not wish to intrude, but could I request having a room close to your own? I am afraid that I may find myself lost if I haven't anyone who knows this building within walking distance." My words, carefully structured to hide my building nerves, were punctuated by a puff of my shrill laughter, echoing eerily down the corridor of painted phantoms. "But of course," he replied, turning to give me a reassuring smile, but the edges of his lips curled downward like a sheet of paper exposed to the heat of a flame.

     He turned down another corridor, cold and dismal despite the best efforts of the decor adorning the pattered wall paper. His pace was easy to keep up with, due to not only his short stature (and therefore shorter strides) but also the malnourishment which clearly plagued him. I felt a pang of worry curl within me, tightening its vice grip on my stomach. My friend's affliction must be quite horrid to bring him to such a state.

     "Here we are, " he announced in his tired voice, glancing up at me with amber eyes cowering beneath the dark bags surrounding them. 

     He pushed open a door, plain and unremarkable if not for the intricately carved brass knob guarding it from unwanted entry. A face, twisted and inhuman glinted under Dipper's skeletal hand before vanishing into the room as the door swung inward with an irate groan.

     He stepped within the room's somber embrace, and I followed silently, unable to stop my eyes from darting around the room. Much like its surroundings, it was dark and drab, unsaturated hues of red lying across the bed and clinging to the walls in peeling strips. When my eyes returned from perusing the strange interior, I was met with the sight of his own staring at me with such focus as was difficult to ignore.

     " 'Tis lovely," I told him, and his gaze relaxed, but the furrow between his brow remained. I started to wonder if it ever took leave. 

     He nodded in response, worrying his lip with fervor. I raised a hand to lay on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture, fingers fiddling idly with the rough material of his vest. "You always look so grim," I mused as he stiffened and then relaxed under my touch.

     "You do not understand my situation. If you were plagued such as I, you too would be grim." 

     I grinned, despite the pangs of unease his lifeless response sent tearing through me. "We both know that is an untruth, my friend." He allowed a knowing smile to take temporary refuge across his soft features, for the statement was quite accurate. Even as youth, I was the more chipper of our duo. He used to ask me how my mouth was not sore from how much I smiled. The memory turned sour within my mind as I gazed at the man now, meek and afraid. I had to force myself to let go of him, rather than tearing him from this house, with its eerie quiet.

     He stepped back as I pulled away, striding toward the door. He turned back to face me, his face a pale mirror of my anxiety. 

"My room is across the hallway if you feel inclined to visit, Mr. Cipher."

"Bill," I murmured as he was devoured by the passage outside my door, vanishing into his own quarters. "I do wish he would call me Bill again."

 

* * *

 

     As the day crawled on, I settled into my new room, contemplating my enigma of a friend. He was much like this when we first met, quiet and secluded, but the longer he stayed at our boarding school, the more open and animated he grew toward me, almost as if his home stole the life from him like an unstoppable bandit. 

     I banished the thought. A home was not alive. It was an unthinking entity, not capable of malice. Yet there was an odd feeling of this structure, an unsettling emptiness. I vowed not to let it take my old companion hostage once more.

     With a sigh, I settled onto the bed, fixated on the murky window near its side, peering out from behind eyelids of heavy drapes. The grounds were grey and lifeless. "They really need to hire a better gardener," I quipped, but no one was there to laugh, just the aching loneliness of this husk of a home.

      I stood, walking over to the door and swinging it open, making a face at the grotesque knob. Across the hallway, the door to Dipper's room beckoned, and I answered its silent call. Raising a gloved hand, I knocked on his door, the sound resonating through the empty corridor. It swung open, and he peered out with a sympathetic smile.

      "You feel it too, then?"

      I nodded, and he opened the door further, allowing me entrance. I walk past him, pulling my body tight against the wall to avoid knocking him aside. I was afraid of finding out if he was as delicate as he appeared. He closed the door behind us, and I felt a pressure let up in my chest, the coil of panic unwinding itself within me. 

     I allowed myself a grin, hiding the nervousness that had led me to his meticulously organized room. He led me to his bed, where we both sat, each of us indulging in our own nervous habits. The intimacy of the moment left an indescribable sensation in my stomach, and despite my reputation as a talkative man, I found I had very little to say. 

      "So, you see, Mr. Cipher," Dipper started, presumably returning to a conversation we had previously held. "It is quite unsettling living here without a companion to converse and joke with." I merely nodded, watching him as he slid closer to me on the bed. I did not question his actions; there was something about this place that brought me to long for human contact, to verify that I did indeed exist within this desolate fortress.

      I gave him a reassuring smile, and he returned it, looking quite a bit more like the boy I recalled from our youth. Possibly, I decided as I met the soft, amber gaze of my friend, my time at this godforsaken estate would not be quite so unpleasant.


End file.
